


Letter of Intent

by EntreNous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Light Dom/sub, Love Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Albus Potter receives an extremely suggestive letter, his father demands Draco explain himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter of Intent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Daily Deviant in 2011 for the prompt "erotographomania: arousal from writing romantic or erotic letters or poems".

Draco Malfoy resisted the urge to smooth his robes and instead kept his expression calm, his eyes trained on the man seated across from him.

Potter's lips were creased in an unattractive grimace. He looked as though he were ready to explode at one wrong word, prepared to vault over the huge desk to lunge at Draco. His hands grasped the edge of it, as though preparing to hoist himself up from his chair and launch his attack at some unknown sign predetermined by him.

Seeing as the desk in question was Draco's, and that Potter had come round to his home demanding to see him rather than summoning him to the Ministry, Draco felt justified in thinking such a movement would show very poor manners indeed.

"Well?" Draco asked when it became clear he would have to speak first. "Do you think you might at some point see fit to tell me why you're here?"

"Don't pretend you don't know."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I don't, actually."

"He's only sixteen, you know!"

Draco allowed himself to exhale inaudibly; nonsensical though the exhortation had been, at least it appeared clear Potter had not dropped by to cite Draco for something like selling dark artifacts to interested dealers. That he was in fact selling a few trinkets that had been in the family for some time was his own business; whether they were dark or not, he didn't care to find out, and he would just as well Potter not find out either.

But no, this seemed another matter entirely, and judging by Potter's tempestuous expression, it might actually be something far worse.

"Who is only sixteen?" Draco asked carefully. If Scorpius had done something illegal and been caught -- well, Draco's ignorance of the matter would form the first basis of their defense. And then of course they would retain excellent attorneys.

Potter drummed his fingers, scowling. But when Draco made no response to the pointed gesture, he drew a piece of parchment out of his ornate Chief Auror robes, and shoved it across the desk toward Draco.

Draco tried not to seem overly eager as he glanced at it for a clue as to what was going on. What lay on the desk before him, however, was not a document or summons implicating himself or his son. Rather, it seemed a page from a personal letter.

"This belongs to you?" Draco inquired. He felt determined to give away as little as possible, particularly as he still had no idea what Potter wanted.

Potter looked as though he would like to throttle Draco, but instead he bit out, "Tell me what you know about it."

When Potter made no other move besides crossing his arms, Draco drew the parchment closer and picked it up.

> _  
> Don't think I haven't noticed you watching me, those green eyes of yours so wide with want. You give yourself away entirely too much, you know. Even in a crowd of people around us, I can spot the flush that sweeps along your neck until it reaches your burning cheeks, the heat thrumming through you that makes you swallow and stammer when we speak, the pure yearning open in your gaze each time we lay eyes on one another._
> 
> _Only I can soothe that ache for you. But you know that already. You've realized you haven't any idea how to get what you desire -- that is, if you've even begun to understand what exactly it is you want. What an innocent you are still, for all your obvious longing!_
> 
> _Lucky for the both of us, I am no innocent. I know exactly what I want, and what I want, I take._
> 
> _You like that, don't you?_
> 
> _So let's put a stop to this, this awkward bumping into one another in Diagon Alley, these little meetings in which you just happen to find yourself crossing my path. Let us arrange to meet at last, the two of us, alone._

Draco very nearly stopped after all that rot about Potter's green eyes, to ask why Potter was wasting his time, showing him letters from one of his obviously addled admirers. Then he saw something that made him read on.

>   
> _  
> Make any excuse you like, Albus, to get away. I don't care what you tell them. But meet me near Diagon Alley, at the address I've enclosed, on the date I've asked -- burn that note after you memorize it -- and I will be there, waiting._
> 
> _You want to agree straight away, don't you? But I can feel you hesitate, as surely as if I were by your side. What if someone were to discover us, stop you, or dissuade me from coming?_
> 
> _You will come, though, Albus, because no man will ever take you the way I will. No man will ever make you so absolutely his, Al, not the way I will make you_ mine _._
> 
> _Have you been kissed? Of course you have, some schoolboy fumbling, perhaps a few summer romances at the shore. But I will do more than kiss you; I will make you succumb. I shall make you submit everything you are to me when I take you in my arms, when I undress you (so slowly, no matter how much you want me to hurry), when I touch and tease you until you're shaking and begging, when I spread you out on the bed, tugging your head back by that mop of black hair, and order you not to--  
> _

"Why even finish it, when you know exactly what it says?" Potter interrupted.

Draco looked up, his lips parted. He was so absorbed in the description on the page that it took him a moment to register that he had been interrupted. But when the import of Potter's words impacted him, he dropped the parchment and felt his jaw go slack.

"You think _I_ wrote this -- this --"

"I know you're the one who wrote it, because I found this." Potter stood and threw a half-charred scrap of parchment on the desk; on it, below the faint, unintelligible scribbles that remained on the partly burned page, there was a seal: the Malfoy seal. Draco stared, absently running his fingertip over the mark.

"Where did you get this?" Draco asked suddenly.

"That doesn't matter -- what matters is that this scrap was found just under the letter --"

Draco snorted. "Surely not found by an investigative team, was it? Going through your son's things, hmm? Quite a lot of trust you place in him, don't you? And some Auror you are, putting together two pieces of paper and arriving at an unassailable conclusion, immediately storming off to make your accusation. Why you assumed this was the exact note the letter mentioned --"

"You don't deny you wrote the letter?" Potter asked, something like triumph flashing in his eyes.

"Of course I deny I wrote it, because I did not write it! Potter, you know I have a son, same age as yours, and I would never go through his things this way. Does Albus know you read his love notes and confront his supposed paramours with not-so-subtle threats, using your trappings of office to intimidate his possible lovers?"

Potter sank into his chair, looking bewildered. "I didn't mean -- I just left the Ministry, when -- but of course this isn't any sort of -- of official investigation --" He plucked at his robes awkwardly.

"Damn right it's not," Draco retorted. "The last I checked, it wasn't a crime to write erotic love letters. _Not_ that I'm defending my actions, because they don't need defending." He turned the page toward Potter. "This isn't even my hand, if you bother to look at it for more than a moment."

Potter eyed the document, seeming more ill at ease by the moment. "You might have used a Quick Quotes Quill, or --"

"Look, Potter, you can ask me anything you like about the matter, and I'll answer just the same -- hell, I'll even take Veritaserum if that will put your mind at rest." He held up his hand as Potter opened his mouth. "I've no idea how my family's seal on that page came into proximity with the letter, but I can assure you, I've sent no communications to your son."

Potter slumped back in his seat and dragged his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "When Ginny found the letter, and she showed me, I thought --"

"Perhaps the two of you should spend less time rifling through Albus's private materials, and more time talking to your son," Draco advised. "Certainly you won't learn anything about him by continuing to question _me_."

"No, of course," Potter muttered getting to his feet. He still looked troubled, but he made his way to the door. When he had nearly crossed the threshold, though, he paused. "Look, Malfoy, I'm -- for what it's worth, I apologize. When I thought you --"

Draco waved the apology away. "If next time you would simply take stock for a moment before rushing off to accuse me of whatever evil lurks over your family -- or at least just ask me outright before playing some complicated game --"

"Yeah, all right." Potter gave Draco a small, shamefaced grin, and, with a nod, at last departed.

 

 

***~***

 

 

A few weeks later, almost at the close of Hogwarts' Easter holiday, Draco slipped away from Diagon Alley and turned down a nondescript lane.

When he eased into the room on the second floor, the man standing at the window had so occupied himself with watching the few people on the narrow passageway below that he didn't notice Draco enter.

Before he could perceive him, Draco reached him in two strides and grasped his chin tightly with his forefinger and thumb, jerking his mouth up so Draco could kiss him hard.

"Oh, fuck," Albus whispered when they drew apart some minutes later.

"Not yet," Draco murmured. He ran his thumb over Al's bottom lip. "Was that what you expected?"

"Better." Al licked his lips. "Again?"

"Demanding, aren't you?"

Al ducked his head, grinning, looking not unlike his father when Draco had last seen him.

"But then, I should have known that." Draco removed Al's robes, draping them over a nearby chair before he stroked Al's torso thoughtfully, watching his toned chest heave slightly. "No," he said calmly when Albus made a gesture as though to remove his t-shirt. "We'll do this slowly." He pulled his gloves off with care, letting the corners of his mouth turn up at Al watching his hands with avid anticipation. Giving Al a pointed look so that he understood he was not to move, Draco laid the gloves on the table. When he turned back and lifted Al's chin with the tip of his forefinger, Al inhaled sharply.

"That's what you wanted, isn't it?" he whispered against Al's neck, teeth grazing the smooth skin there. He flicked his tongue over Al's Adam's apple and nuzzled his collarbone. "To be undressed slowly, so slowly, no matter how much you want me to hurry?"

"I have a vivid imagination," Albus said faintly, turning his head to expose more of the slim column of his neck.

"So I read in your letter. Did you intend for it to be found?"

"I -- I just thought --" Al grunted when Draco backed him against the wall, and exhaled a shuddering breath when Draco pressed against him. He caressed Draco's shoulder with a trembling hand. "They were only fantasies, what I wrote, about what you might have said, what I wanted to hear." He made a pleased sound as Draco pressed his thigh against Al's hardening cock, and curled his fingers into the wisps of hair at Draco's neck. "I never meant for anyone to see --"

"Ah, but it was obviously seen, the one your father brandished at me, wasn't it? Quite a specific one, too, explaining how we might have met; I found the details you included instructive, to be sure. And the seal, how did you manage that?" Draco drew Albus's earlobe between his teeth and bit lightly.

Draco paused as Al's firm body seized in a contrary pose, as though Al had stiffened in order to begin denying any deliberate intrigue on his part. But when Draco skimmed his fingertips down his sides, bringing them to rest on his hips and cupping his arse, Albus laughed breathlessly and melted in Draco's arms.

"A year ago, when Scoripus had all the Slytherins in our year visit -- the door to your study was open, and you weren't inside. I saw you outside on your broom. Scorpius said you spent hours and hours flying the year after the divorce, so I knew I had a little time to look round." Al's hips pressed forward lightly, a sly thrust of his erection against Draco's thigh. "There were two signet rings, one in the desk drawer and the other closed in a curio cabinet; I didn't think you'd miss one. And I thought maybe, one day, I might give it back to you somehow."

"Clever boy. Devious as well." Draco flicked open the buttons to Al's trousers, letting them slip down, leaving him standing in his pants. "Perhaps not so clever, though, had your father simply walked in casting curses before asking questions."

"It got your attention, didn't it?" Albus asked, his breath hitching.

"It certainly did. Though no more stunts like that in the future, getting my attention by arousing suspicion against me, not if you want this --"

"I want this," Al interrupted, his green eyes wide, vulnerable.

Draco smiled, gesturing for Al to step away of his trousers and out of his shoes. Before Al could move toward him, though, Draco pressed a hand on his chest, keeping them a distance apart. "You wrote some enticing scenarios, Albus. But what happens next, well, I'm sure you'd rather some surprises than find everything done exactly by the letter."

"Please," Al whispered, that ache and want so clear in his green eyes, for all his guile, for all his innocence.

"On the bed, then," Draco told him, pausing to enjoy the view as Albus scrambled to obey.


End file.
